


Lay Thee Down

by Arukou



Series: Tumblr Archive the Second [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Insomnia, OT6, Sleep Deprivation, Steve and Tony are dating but the focus is more on the team and Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 22:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arukou/pseuds/Arukou
Summary: Tony would love to sleep. He really would. But his body's just not letting him.





	Lay Thee Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoseFyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseFyre/gifts).



> For [RoseFyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseFyre/pseuds/RoseFyre) who prompted: "Tony has to stay awake for a very long time for some reason, and when he finally is allowed to rest, he physically can't, so the rest of the Avengers (but especially Steve) take care of him until he can."

With two hours to deadline, Tony finally managed to unsnag the last line of code and send it through. A new smart bot, one designed for searching and detonating IEDs so soldiers wouldn’t have to, whirred to life and aimed its tiny periscope cam at him inquisitively, awaiting input. The right mix of AI—not so sophisticated that army programmers could turn it into an offensive weapon, but not so improbably slow that it failed to do its job. Three iterations ago it’d tried to bring the dummy bomb to Tony, and that was clearly a no-go, so he’d started the code from the bottom up and programmed until the edges of his vision went blurry. It needed testing. Testing.

“Find,” Tony grunted, and the bot happily rolled off to the mock test range. “Not perfect,” Tony murmured, slumping down against the table to watch. “Just functional. Just need you to do your job. Can tweak later.” It’s little treads bumbled across sand and rocks, grinding a little in a way that, just for a moment, sent Tony back five years in time. His fingers clenched compulsively at the table before he forced himself to let go.

In the sandbox, the little bot scanned back and forth with infrared and ground-penetrating sonar and blessedly, beautifully, it located the payload. The shovel arm activated and started digging. Tony nearly wept.

Time slowed to a molasses crawl as he watched and waited. The digging mechanism had to be calibrated just so. Too much force might set off the bomb prematurely, and while the bot was built to withstand most of the explosives it would encounter, the goal was also to mitigate as much damage as possible to save on long-term costs. At last the bot pulled his dummy bomb and began sending back data.

Tony swiveled to watch the bot’s feed, studying preliminary analysis from the computer’s suppositions and looking to see how close it got to guessing right. There needed to be human input at this stage to verify and validate, but if he could get the bot's guesses at least 80% accurate, it would save soldiers precious minutes of exposure and danger in the field.

Line by line the profile appeared: likely composition, likely blast radius, size analysis, potential solutions. Not bad little bot. It wasn’t gauging size correctly—something was probably off in the camera aspect ratio, but that was easily fixed. Tony typed back orders and watched with eyes that felt on the verge of shriveling up into dried peas as the bot began procedure. It pried away the main engagement plate and started snipping wires. Beautiful. As dexterous as he’d hoped. And the test was going much better than last time, considering last time the bot had run right over the dummy bomb and technically blown itself up.

The bot finished the last of the disarmament protocol and swept its camera again, asking Tony for permission to return. He glanced at the clock. Hour-and-a-half to deadline. Beautiful. With a flick of his wrist, he typed in the commands for return, charging and self-diagnostic. It would be enough. It had to be. Tony needed it to be because he’d been awake…slowly he blinked at the clock and tried to focus. The numbers blurred in and out before sharpening, and he sucked at his teeth. He’d been awake way too long, that’s what he’d been.

“J, lab’s yours. Get the specs and test footage to Pep, and tell her to work her magic. Do not disturb orders on my quarters for the next four hours. I don’t want to hear or see anyone or anything unless the world’s ending, and even then, tell them to see if they can get Johnny Storm first.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Tony stumbled his way to the elevator, finally allowing himself to make the jaw-cracking yawn he’d been biting back for the last four hours. Now that the code wasn’t right in front of him, now that he had allowed his brain room to think of something other than the next string of numbers and letters, it felt like his bones were turning to concrete. His feet dragged and his fingers hung limp at his sides. The raw puffiness of his eyes seemed to get worse, especially when he stepped out of his dim lab and into the blindingly bright elevator.

JARVIS brought him to the penthouse without a word, and Tony emerged into a seating area lit only by the New York skyline. Late then. Late enough that the city seemed quiet. Maybe so late it was early. Tony had just been looking at a clock. Why couldn’t he remember what time it was?

On dragging toes, he slumped his way through the living area to his bedroom. No Steve. The bed was made, the sheets military flat. Tony would miss Steve’s body heat, but they didn’t always share a bed, so it wasn’t like he had any right to be disappointed or lonely. It was fine. Or at least it would be fine once was he was horizontal.

With fingers stiff and swollen from hours at the computer, Tony slowly peeled away his T-shirt and fumbled his way through his jeans’ button and zipper, shuffling out of the denim rather than pushing it away. He was afraid to bend over, what with the way his head was swimming.

“Getting too old for this, J,” he murmured, staring forlornly between the bed and the bathroom. He could go to sleep without brushing his teeth. It was an option. But he’d regret it when he woke up. He knew that much.

“With all due respect, Sir, perhaps it’s time to bring on a secondary R&D assistant.”

“Who’s,” Tony yawned over the “oo” and tried again. “Who’s gonna keep up with me?”

“I already have a list of several likely candidates, Sir. There’s a young woman at MIT, up-and-coming, who seems particularly promising.”

“Yeah? Well, put together a profile. Maybe—” another yawn “—maybe I can get to it tomorrow.” For a moment, Tony had to lean against the sink as his whole world tilted forward. He grit his teeth and waited the dizziness spell out, and then he picked up his toothbrush, smearing toothpaste on it at a snail’s pace. He brushed slowly, steadily, telling himself just a little bit more. Just. A little. Bit. More. And then it was down. His teeth were sort of clean. Enough to be bearable anyway. So he shuffled for his bed. It was almost as bad as being rip-roaring drunk, though at least this wouldn’t result in vomiting come morning.

With a final burst of energy, Tony flopped forward onto his mattress, groaning as his nose took more weight than it deserved. He barely had the energy to slither under the covers, but he forced himself to do it, jamming his feet (still in socks) down toward the bottom of the bed.

“Sleep” he whispered, turning onto his side and snuggling down. The sheets were cool and the scent of mint was in his mouth. Nice, beautiful sleep.

…

…

He’d thought, with the way his body felt, that he’d drift off right away, but from his nest under the covers, he felt suddenly wide awake. Wired awake. His leg started jumping a little, a twitch in his calf that just wouldn’t go away.

“It’s just nerves,” Tony mumbled. Stupid contract. He didn’t want Hammer Industries getting it. Not Bain either. They’d try to weaponize it and that would be bad. Very bad. Had he checked the color protocols against the video footage? What if the bot had identified the wrong colors? What if, in the dark, it couldn’t make out color input? Tony hadn’t designed a night vision camera. Maybe he should—

He shook his head sharply. No. This was not the answer. There was plenty of time for tweaks later. What he needed right now was sleep. Even he could recognize when he was beyond being of any use to anyone, and he was there right now, already a lump of sleep-deprived meat.

“Sleep,” he said again, now a command. As if to make it a reality, he shifted in his bed, turning onto his other side and pulling the blankets into a tight burrito around him. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. It was all going to be fine. Just get some shut-eye and then work on tweaks. And Clint’s arm guards. And a stronger stretch material for Bruce’s pants. Something flame retardant.

The night wore on and Tony tossed and turned, but his brain couldn’t seem to shut down. He could recognize it, in a distant sort of way. Nervous thought spirals that took him further and further down the rabbit hole. When he’d gotten them as a teen and in his twenties, he’d self-medicated into a stupor, but he knew how Steve felt about that. Tony was better than that, now.

So instead he tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep. Counting breath. Imagining he was a melting snowman. Tensing and relaxing focused muscle groups. Listing the periodic table. He never got far though. The thought spirals intruded again and again. For hours he fought it until, rumpled and so dry he felt like a corn husk, he peeked out from beneath his blanket and saw that the sun was rising.

“What the fuck?” he whispered, pressing his fingers into his eyes.

“Sir?” JARVIS asked, quietly, almost hesitantly.

“J, blinds.”

“Sir, shall I—”

“Blinds, please.”

The windows tinted to matte gray, trapping Tony in darkness. That made it so much worse. So so much worse. Without the ambient city light, he was in space, in the suit, falling, dying, alone. With a desperate wheeze, Tony whipped away his blankets, looking down at the arc reactor, touching its smooth face, pressing his palm to it to feel the steady thrum beneath. Too much. Too damn much.

Heart pounding in his chest, Tony rose and stumbled out of the bedroom into the main room. If he couldn’t sleep, he damn well wasn’t going to stay in the dark. He weaved back and forth to the kitchen, eyes on his feet, so of course he he ran straight into someone.

“Tony?”

Clint. That was Clint. Should’ve recognized the dog PJ bottoms. Tony blinked up and flinched when Clint took a literal step back.

“Holy shit, man, what happened?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Can’t sleep.”

There was a clunk of glass on marble somewhere behind Clint, and with great effort, Tony raised his head. Oh god. They were all there. Team breakfast. Was it Sunday? It must be Sunday. Fuck fuck fuck.

Bruce was the first to move again, standing from his chair at the table. “Tony, you’re not looking so great. When was the last time you were able to sleep?”

“Uh…”

“JARVIS?” Nat asked, bypassing him completely.

“Sir has been awake for sixty-two hours and forty-seven minutes.”

“Jesus, Tony,” Clint breathed. Tony realized Clint’s hand was on his shoulder, but he couldn’t remember how it got there.

“Tried,” he said, tongue thick. It was hard to get the words out. “Tried last night. Laid in bed. Counted. Stuff. Couldn’t.”

As though a whistle had been blown, the team leaped into action. Clint slung his arm over Tony’s shoulders and turned to look at Steve. Nat was already at the refrigerator, pulling out a gallon of milk. Bruce brushed past them both going…Tony wasn’t sure where. He blinked and when next he looked, Steve was right in front of him.

“—ony? Tony?”

“Sorry. Can’t. Word.”

“That’s ok, Tony. We’re going to get some food and water in you and Bruce is getting you something to help you sleep. Then you and I are going to bed.”

“We are?”

“Uh huh.”

Clint steered Tony into a chair, and a moment later, something heavy fell over his chest and legs. He looked down to see a length of heavy red fabric. Thor’s cape. He was wearing Thor’s cape. And under that he was…naked? Except for socks. He was still wearing socks. Not naked.

“Here Tony. Can you drink this for me? Got you a straw to make it easier.” Nat set down a mug of milk in front of him, and he nearly dropped it when he touched the ceramic. He wasn’t expecting it to be warm. But still, he sipped at it through the straw, trying to answer Nat’s quiet smile with one of his own. He didn’t feel like smiling. Or drinking. But he forced himself to. Something inside him slowly began unclenching. 

“Here Tony,” Steve said, setting down a bowl of oatmeal with banana coins on top. “Try eating a little for me. Just enough to help settle you.” Tony tried to reach for the spoon only to have it swim just out of grasp. Like an eel. He frowned down and tried again but it stubbornly remained out of reach.

“Spoon’s swimming,” he muttered out loud and tried using both hands. Only Clint at his side managed to keep the mug of milk from becoming a disaster as it dropped away.

“Ok, buddy,” he murmured setting the mug out of reach. “Let me help you with that spoon. They’re tricky, I know.” He helped wrap Tony’s clumsy fingers around the spoon and then guided him through the first few bites of oatmeal. It was nice. Not too sweet. Not too hot. Warm and grounding in his stomach. He blinked and realized Steve was there, looking down with that sad smile that wasn’t quite a real smile, that little pinch of skin between his eyes.

“Good, Tony. How are you feeling now? A little more settled.”

He wanted to respond, he did, but he could barely keep his eyes open anymore.

“Ok, Tony.”

That was Bruce. Bruce was back. “I brought you some melatonin and a mild muscle relaxant. I know you prefer not to have that kind of thing in your system, but you’re so keyed up, I worry you might not get to REM before your muscles wake you back up again. Will you take it for me?”

Tony nodded and opened his mouth numbly, feeling the soft acrid weight of pills on his tongue. Someone put the straw back between his lips, and he swallowed convulsively. It was so nice and warm. He almost believed sleep was possible. 

And then he was going up. There were arms under his shoulders and knees, a furnace of heat against his side. Thor’s cape draped over him in what was probably a ridiculously dramatic affectation. He would’ve laughed if he could’ve.

“Do not disturb orders. Nat, if there’s an emergency, you’re in charge.”

Was this what flying felt like? No. Tony had flown before. Flying wasn’t as soft as this. He cracked his eyes. When had they gotten to the bedroom? The bedside light was on, and in its soft orange halo, Steve was undressing, He glanced over and caught Tony watching. “Hey. Hey, you’re doing great. Just close your eyes for me. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Tony could feel a thought spiral pressing at the back of his brain, but he closed his eyes anyway because Steve had asked it of him. A moment later, the bed dipped behind him and there was heat at his back, a great swatch of warm naked skin.

“Just gonna help you relax a little more. You just keep your eyes closed, ok? Go to sleep if you can.”

Steve hands were on him. Smooth, strong, sure. And then he started kneading. Gentle squeezes along Tony’s triceps, soft circles across his shoulder blades, firm strokes along his lumbar and glutes. The warmth seemed to shoot straight through him, setting off some sort of chemical trigger in his brain. Little by little, his limbs melted into the mattress.

“Great job, Tony. You’re doing great.”

Tony wanted to tell Steve he was great, he was sweet and kind and caring, and Tony loved him. He wanted to tell him all that. But his tongue was melting into his teeth, and his eyes couldn’t stay open anymore. Under Steve’s gentle massage, he finally, finally slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/post/158337648361/tony-has-to-stay-awake-for-a-very-long-time-for).


End file.
